Archive for the ‘Sleight Farm’ Category

Hunter, The Sleight Farm Dog


2010
09.02

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Hunter Stewart at Lake Michigan. His last vacation before he died on Sept. 2, 2010.

Take Me for a Walk

Before my eyes open and

The sun is barely awake

Hunter quietly begs for an easy hike

Not a full out torrent of talk

Just a look that says, “Take me for a walk”

Take me for a walk before the coffee is dripped

And the emails are checked

Take me for a walk before the weeds are plucked

And the tomatoes are picked.

To him, the farm is none of that

It’s a place where his old body is young again

Where he is fast and thin, not tired and fat

Take me for a walk, he says, before summer is over

And my old hips fail to hold me up

Take me for a walk until my paws are tired

And scented sweet from earth’s green clover.

Take me for a walk

–Kimberly Lord Stewart, Hunter’s walking companion–

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Summer Time in Mint City


2010
08.09

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In August, it’s a good idea to drive ’round these parts with the windows down. The air smells like you’ve just pulled the red string off a pack of spearmint chewing gum. It’s the second week of the eighth month, also known as mint harvest in the Mint City.

Since living here, I’ve learned that mint has a lot of purposes. Remember the scene in the Big Fat Greek Wedding when the father of the bride uses the blue spray for just about everything, well mint is a lot like nature’s Windex. It can cure all manner of ailments from bad breath to bee stings (My husband found out the latter after a nasty entanglement with a mean wasp). But my all time favorite use for a handful of fresh mint is a mojito.

This year the Crosby Mint Farm, the longest family run mint farm in continuous production, introduced a fresh, sweet, minty mojito mixer. It’s made by a mint farming family living on a small farm that competes with big corporate mint farms. The mix hasn’t a drop of high fructose corn syrup and it’s made from real mint. Not many other products can make all those claims–even spearmint gum isn’t always made from real mint these days.

Add a jigger of rum, a splash of sparkling water and a muddle of mint and you have a cool summer drink fit for Fidel Castro himself. It’s fitting that the mojito was a favorite drink of Michigan author Ernest Hemingway. His favorite bar to imbibe was La Bodeguita del medio. To this day his handwriting on the bar wall reads, “Mi mojito en la Bodeguita” (My mojito at the Bodeguita). To order your own bottle of the Crosby’s Mojito mix (better order two), with their dog Mojita on the label, click here and thank me later.

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Michigan Black Caps


2010
06.30

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Ooh la la.

It’s black cap season in Michigan. These thumbelina wild black berries grow wild on dirt roadsides and thickets take over unkempt farms and lucky. The thorns try to scare away berry pickers by snagging clothing and scratching tender skin. Patience and thick gloves have their rewards.

Black Cap Salad with Feta

Serves 2

3 large handfuls of baby lettuce, washed, dried

1 cup Black Caps or Blackberries, washed and dried

1 avocado, thinly sliced, rinsed under tepid water to prevent browning

1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese

Paper thin slice red onion

2 Tablespoons salted pistachios

  • Cover plates with lettuce. Arrange berries, avocado, feta, onion and pistachios. Sprinkle with dressing.

Dressing

Whisk together:

3 Tablespoons rice vinegar

2 Tablespoons Black Cap berries, crushed

1 Tablespoon pistachio oil

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And babies make 6 woodchucks…


2010
06.22

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So remember the Woodchuck naming contest? The Sleight Farm woodchucks have been very busy this spring. There are now four baby Woodchucks, or is it Woodchicks? Anyway, this changes things considerably for both the naming contest and whether we can live in harmony with so many wood-eating critters. They are living in a rural penthouse of sorts, an 125-year old barn with a newly added Amish built roof. The floor is in a bad state because of their underground tunnels that crisscross the barn. This old farm can only take so much chewing and upheaval.

We may have to relocate the parents and kids to more simpatico spot at a lovely respite, Sleepy Hollow State Park down the road. I have a hunch moving the chucks and chicks sounds easier than it is. Should I move them or let them be? Until we decide how and if we should send them packing, send in your suggestions to name the Sleight Farm woodchuck family.

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“Ain’t That the Berries”


2010
06.22

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“If I were a wood fairy, my buttons would be pink strawberries and my coat a fine weave of  sweet summer grass.”

For now, my mere mortal hands must decide what to do with a flat of summer’s first Michigan strawberries.  Of course, first off, dollops of fresh cold cream to cap off handfuls of just plucked warm berries. But then what? Summer’s first berries and Spring’s last stalks of rhubarb with a sugar and sandy shortbread crust? Deep green spinach from the garden with bright red berries and splash of rice vinegar? Or will a buttermilk biscuit grace these berries for shortcake? What would you do with 8 quarts of summer’s first buttons of sweetness?

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It’s been a month since arriving at Sleight Farm


2010
06.04

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We measure our days in rainfall, corn height, undone chores, sunsets and spent wine corks.  It seems something always needs cleaning, cutting, mowing, weeding or just mulling. This week is the 12th anniversary of my Uncle’s death here on the farm. He died from an accident while clearing trees after a storm. I marvel at the rural preserve he and my Aunt built and their vision to preserve a lifestyle that is vanishing. Whether through toil or text, I hope that my husband and I can do justice to their legacy.

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Name the Woodchuck


2010
05.14

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Meet the Sleight Farm Woodchuck. He lives outside our kitchen window and spend his mornings and evenings eating dandelions. He needs a name, so leave your suggestions here or on facebook.

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A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall


2010
05.14

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A wise farmer in our family used to say, “Too little rain and you’ll be poor, too much rain and you’ll starve.”

Even technology can’t beat Michigan’s Mother Nature. A week ago, $500K work of steel and modern technology plowed, seeded and fertilized this land. A satellite GPS system planted each kernel six inches apart, three inches deep. Today the  field is a shallow river, with gravity pulling the kernels downstream to the deep culvert.

T.S. Elliot said April is the cruelest month….breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. I beg to differ. May is the cruelest month. The road washed out, the cellar sprung a leak and the muddy garden waits yet another day for plants. Trying to stop the water is like holding an umbrella over a duck, so wear your boots.

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Michigan or Bust


2010
04.27

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Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil and you’re a thousand miles from the corn field.

President Dwight Eisenhower said these words many years ago. I am about ready to find out what he meant. For too long, I’ve been a pencil plower and from behind my desk, farming looked mighty easy.  Our covered wagon is packed with our dog and the bare essentials. Trouble is, I am not sure exactly what I need. If you were headed to live on a farm for 6 months, what would you bring?

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